


Go find a Reaper

by thevernacularium



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, Blood and Violence, Eskel Deserves Love, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Masturbation, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Strangers to Lovers, Strong Female Characters, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevernacularium/pseuds/thevernacularium
Summary: Eskel contemplated his next move. This captive woman had just taken down five men single handedly. She had moved with precision, killed with practiced movements. She was a professional.She was facing her horse, working at her saddlebags when Eskel stepped noiselessly into the clearing, sword in hand, She whirled around, brandishing her own sword in hand. Metal clanged together and her eyes, full of fire met his.They stood like this for a full breath. The fire in her eyes dampened and she lowered her sword.“A Witcher... this is certainly turning into an interesting evening.” She raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “I’ve no quarrel with you or your guild Master Witcher. I would ask you to stand down and let me carry on with my business.”Eskel stared at her, sword still raised. Unsure what to say. After three heart beats the best he could muster was “You’re… you’re wounded.”
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Character(s), Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 106





	1. Violent introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Alright friends. We're going to see where this thing goes...This is my first attempt at writing smut so BEAR WITH ME PLEASE. 
> 
> ** implied sexual assault is NOT between main characters**

She sat next to the wagon, hands bound in front of her with coarse twine. There was a crust of dried blood under her nose, and one dress sleeve was torn. Her face and hair coated with a dust rime from several days of rough travel. She sat some 15 meters from the campfire, too far to enjoy the hospitable warmth and light.

A group of five men surrounded the fireside in a semicircle, the smell of roasting meat and ale wafting on the light breeze. Crude conversation and raucous laughter rose with the smoke to fill the small clearing they had made camp in. The men around the fire paid no attention to their captive. They had shed their arms as they relaxed with their food and drink. Several swords and a crossbow lay nearby. Their leather armour had been loosened, exposing dirty rough spun tunics below.

Eskel was crouched in the trees. The sounds and smells of the camp had prompted his departure from the main road. He had not intended to be travelling this late at night, but complications with a contract had delayed his return to town. What was supposed to be a simple drowner cull had turned out to be a particularly nasty grave hag. He’d escaped unscathed, but the hag had put up a vicious fight which had put him behind schedule.

Hidden in the trees, he walked softly to find a good vantage of the clearing. He crouched down, surveying the scene in front of him, considering his options. He could make his presence known, enter the camp loudly and attempt to join their fire, or stay on the outskirts and wait. He opted to wait. Something in his gut told him to hang back and see how this played out. His gaze flicked back and forth from the band of ruffians to the woman tied to the cart. Her eyes were trained on the ground in front of her, the only sign of life was the slow steady rise and fall of her chest.

The men continued to drink, sharing rounds of ale from a large cask. Eskel waited. The fireside conversation shifted from tales of past glory to more present matters.

“...Three days with that fucking wench. How much longer till we’re rid of her.” a stocky man with a ruddy complexion motioned towards the captive woman with his dagger.

“Nearly to Vizima,” replied a tall man with a ginger beard. “ Then she’s out of our hands. Three days more, maybe less if we push the horses.” He spat on the ground and took a long draw from his mug.

“Never had such trouble transporting one fucking wench before. If it’s going to be this much work, it would be best to have more than one piece of merchandise to show for it.” groused the stocky man.

“Can’t sell what we don’t have.” A pox marked man retorted, mouth full of roast meat. “ Last I checked you were the one who was to acquire the inventory.”

“You could at least let us have a bit of fun with her on the way. This road is awful dull.” A beady eyed youth with a ratty face said, and drained his mug

“We all had our roles.” snapped an older man with sallow cheeks. “Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don’t. Buyer had a deadline which means so do we. Furthermore, the buyer was none too pleased with the condition of the last batch. You keep your grubby paws to yourself till we’re paid.”

Eskel looked back at the woman. She had begun to make small movements with her hands and wrists, still bound by ropes. This went on for sometime before she was able to ease one hand, free from her bonds. Her eyes flicked up to the fire, only for a moment. She remained still save for the small movements of her hands, uncoiling the rope from her hands. Once free, she slowly flexed her wrists and stretched her fingers. In one fluid movement she rolled under the wagon to the other side.

Eskel lost sight of her momentarily, then she reappeared around the side of the wagon. She walked quietly around the back of the semi circle of men, with a twist of rope held like a garrotte. Her eyes flashed with a dangerous light.

Wordlessly she stole up behind Ginger Beard, tossed the rope around his neck and pulled tight, twisting and snapping his neck. The sound of breaking bone filled the clearing.

Before his body hit the ground, she had taken two steps to the right to the stack of swords on the ground. She hefted the first one that her hand found, sliding off the scabbard and lodging the blade in the ribcage of Pox Mark. He sputtered and slumped forward. The other three were shocked into movement, but several rounds of ale had slowed their reactions.

She moved like lightning, grabbed a dagger from Pox Mark’s belt and hurled it at Rat Face. It stuck in his leg, in what Eskel recognized to be the femoral artery. Bleeding heavily, Rat Face tried to take a step, but faltered and fell, screaming loudly.

Picking up a two handed sword from the ground, the woman swung strongly at the stocky man who had stood up and advanced towards her. By this point he had recovered his faculties from the initial shock of her appearance and was able to draw his dagger from his belt. He dodged one blow of the sword, but the woman whirled back around and hit him heavily across the face, splitting his skull.

The sallow cheeked older man looked at her. Their eyes met; hers alight with rage, his blackened with fear. He turned on his heel and began to run towards the forest. She stepped to the right, and picked up the loaded hand crossbow next to the pile of blades on the ground. Taking her time, she aimed, and with a steady arm, fired a bolt into his back. He fell to the ground and began to crawl lamely towards the undergrowth. She dropped the crossbow, retrieved the two handed sword and stepped towards the wounded man with a measured stride. When she reached the man, she wordlessly drove the sword through his back. He stopped moving at once.

She looked back towards the fire. Rat Face had stopped howling. He coughed once and then was silent, a large pool of dark blood had formed beneath him.

She stepped towards the fire, picked up one of the mugs of ale and drained it, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her dress. She sat heavily on a box next to the fire. She stared at the fire for a moment, then reached into the bodice of her dress. She retrieved a medallion, held it to her lips and whispered something which Eskel could not hear. A minute later, a horse entered the clearing, riderless, but with full tack and saddle. The light grey mare approached the woman and nickered. She stroked it’s muzzle.

Eskel had heard of this kind of magic before. Cirilla and her horse Kelpie shared a similar bond, a magic recall linked to a trinket. No matter how far the girl wandered, the horse would always answer the call. It was rare and costly magic.

Eskel contemplated his next move. This captive woman had just taken down five men single handedly. She had moved with precision, killed with practiced movements. She was a professional.

She was facing her horse, working at her saddlebags when Eskel stepped noiselessly into the clearing, sword in hand, She whirled around, brandishing her own sword in hand. Metal clanged together and her eyes, full of fire met his.

They stood like this for a full breath. The fire in her eyes dampened and she lowered her sword.

“A Witcher... this is certainly turning into an interesting evening.” She raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “I’ve no quarrel with you or your guild Master Witcher. I would ask you to stand down and let me carry on with my business.”

Eskel stared at her, sword still raised. Unsure what to say. After three heart beats the best he could muster was “You’re… you’re wounded.”

She was. Blood ran down from her shoulder, an angry wound visible through the torn sleeve, blood seeping into the dirty cloth of her dress. She moved the arm stiffly. “A trifle.” she stated “Nothing that won’t heal.” Despite her words, she moved like she was in pain and the wound bled steadily.

“Looks bad enough to need stitches from here. Take it from someone with a great deal of experience in this.” He motioned to his mared face. “Sooner is better than later.”

“You just watched me cut down five men, and your first concern is that I have a flesh wound.” She said laughing. Her voice was pleasant, but her teeth were gritted. “You betray your guilds reputation Master Witcher.” She smiled at him.

Eskel felt his face grow warm. What was wrong with him, he thought. He’d just watched this woman skillfully kill…. no… execute... five hardened ruffians and he was offering her medical advice?

“You seem to have no intention to do me harm, so let’s say you put down your sword, I’ll put down mine and we can have a chat like civilized people.” She sighed, sheathed her sword, removed a saddle bag with her uninjured arm and walked back to the fire.

He stood for another breath, sword still raised, trying to process the scene that was unfolding, before sheathing his sword and joining her by the fire. He sat on a log across the fire ring from her, they were both silent for what felt like an age, his golden eyes scanning her face while she rummaged through her saddlebag.

“Who are you?” he asked.


	2. Fine Needlework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel shows off his embroidery skills.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She huffed a small laugh into a mug of ale, before draining in. “That’s a rather long story I’m afraid. Suffice to say that I was hired by someone who wanted to ensure those men never reached their destination.”

There was a silent pause. A crackle from the fire.

“Magda” she said finally.

“Eskel.” he replied. “Is that your real name?”

She took another long drink of ale. “No.” she paused. “But it will have to do.”

Another silence. Eskel’s mind raced.

“Well Eskel, it has been a pleasure to meet you, truly. I thank you greatly for not cutting me down, but I really must move on. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get out of this dress and into some more reasonable clothes.” She made to stand. Eskel noticed her shoulder was still bleeding. The sleeve of her dress was now stained red all the way to the elbow.

“You should really let me look at that shoulder.” he said after a moment’s silence. “ at least bandage it so you don’t dirty your clothes when you change.

She looked him dead in the eye for a time, eventually her gaze raked over his face, his scarred hands and exposed forearms, as if sizing him up.

“How are you with a needle and thread?” she finally asked.

He pointed to a thin white line on his left forearm. Almost imperceptible in the dim light.

“I did that one myself.” he stated simply. “Most of the hack jobs were done by other people if I’m being honest. Can’t always find a steady hand when you need one.”

She looked closely at his arm, taking in the patchwork of scar marks. Eventually she nodded and began digging in her saddle bag. After a moment, she procured a sharp needle and small role of thread, along with some bandages and spirit.

She poured some of the spirit into a mug and handed the remainder of the bottle to Eskel. “Half for the wound, half for you.”

She sat down next to him. “I’m not convinced I’ll be able to lift this dress off. I was planning on cutting it off. Do you mind?”

He nodded back, taking a small knife from his belt and carefully cutting the fabric of the dress to expose her wound. The fabric was thin and well worn, stained brown with dirt and old blood. Once her arm was freed, she peeled the outer layer of the dress away from herself, leaving her in a soft linen bodice. Eskel did his best to keep his eyes focused on his work and away from the soft curve of her chest. She hissed as he sluiced spirit over her wound. It was long, but the edges of the cut were even.

He readied the needle in his hand. “This might hurt.” he warned. Magda huffed a small laugh and took a sip of spirit. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.” she replied bluntly. His eyes roved over her shoulder, a small patchwork of healed scars visible on her arms and back. Some well approximated and narrow, others wide and shiny.

She made a small sound of discomfort at the first needle prick, but gritted her teeth and sat silently for the remainder. Her face remained composed, but Eskel noticed her fingers diggin into her leg in an iron grip, knuckles white. He put in 20 neat stitches, carefully drawing the edges of the wound together making sure not to pull or stretch the skin in the process.

When he was finished he poured another line of spirit down the length of the incision, and then drank a heavy dram himself. Magda turned her head to inspect his work.

“You make nice lines Master Eskel. Who knew Witchers could be so talented at embroidery.” She doused a bandage in her remaining spirit and wrapped it around the incision. She gave him a small smile before standing and returning to her saddle bag. She withdrew a set of dark clothes and stepped behind the nearby wagon for a moment.

When she returned she was wearing soft leather trousers, a hardened corset and a short leather jacket. Her armour was lightweight, versatile, and unrestrictive. Sitting down, she shook out dust and dried leaves from her hair and redoing her braids in a tight, neat pattern.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” he looked at her seriously. Who are you?”

“I told you already.” she stated bluntly. “ I was hired to permanently interrupt the business transactions of those men.”

“Fine. Keep your personal details to yourself. I understand.” he replied. “Who were they?”

She paused, looking into the dying embers of the fire. “They,” she spat “ were the sort of men who make their coin tearing women from their families.”

There was a pause.

“Slave traders.” she said finally. “They find unsuspecting women in backwater villages and sell them to the wealthy in the far reaches of the world. Zerrikania, Ofier, anywhere too far for them to get back home again.” She spat into the fire.

“And you’re what...An assassin?” he asked bluntly.

She took another drink and shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. Prefer to think of myself as a specialist in reducing the lifespan of those who would do harm to others.”

She looked him in the eye again. “You might say we’re in a similar business. We both kill monsters of a sort.”

The fire had nearly died out. They sat in silence and stared at the glowing embers.

“It’s a bit too late to get back to town safely.” Eskel said eventually. “Probably safer if we stick together, just for tonight. Not that you can’t handle yourself, obviously, but you know…” he mumbled the last sentence into his mug.

“I’d rather not spend the night in a field of corpses to be honest.” said Magda. “Do you know if there is a spot to set camp nearby?”

Eskel thought for a moment and nodded. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been through here, but I seem to remember a clearing by a creek nearby. And you’re quite right. Rather not camp right next to ghoul bait.”

She nodded and stood, gathering her saddle bag and walking towards her horse. Eskel stepped into the undergrowth for a few minutes and returned leading his black stallion into the clearing.

The pair mounted their horses and walked away from the scene of the carnage, following a narrow track into the trees. They rode for about 10 minutes, before Eskel dismounted in a small grassy clearing near a lazy stream. Magda slid down from her horse and looked warily at the Witcher. He held up his hand to signal her to wait. “Lemme just look around. Make sure it’s all clear.” He scouted the perimeter of the clearing and checked the creek before walking back towards her looking somewhat relaxed. “ Yep. looks like a good spot.”

Eskel removed his bedroll from his stallion and laid it on the ground, hitching the horse to a nearby tree.

“Does he have a name?” Magda asked. “He’s quite the animal.”

“Scorpion.” he responded. “ Had him from a foal. Law of surprise works out sometimes. We’ve been through all sorts he and I.” He ran a gentle hand over Scorpion’s muzzle affectionately and the horse nosed into his hand. “Yours?”

“Kasztanka. Got her off a mage that I did a favour for once.”

Magda removed her own bedroll and placed it next to Eskel’s. She removed her boots, lay her sword next to her, and pulled a thin blanket over herself.

“Well Eskel, I admit this evening has ended better than I had anticipated. It’s not often you find a friendly face after a job like that.”

Eskel rubbed the side of his face. His face had been described many ways, but friendly was not one he heard often. He lay on his bedroll. She was close. Close enough that he could hear her heart beating. Close enough that he could smell the herbal scent of her hair.

“ Good night Magda.”


	3. Breakfast and Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Magda share food and stories.

Eskel awoke just before dawn. At some point in the night Magda had curled up around him, presumably for warmth, one arm wrapped around his broad chest. Her breaths were slow and even. He never had a problem staying warm when sleeping outside. Witchers ran hot, and the mutations had dulled his temperature sense. Still, the feeling of her lying so close was strangely comforting. He remained still, not wanting to wake her.

The sun rose and light filled the clearing. Magda rolled over, still asleep, freeing Eskel from her embrace. He rose silently and walked over to the horses, feeding each of them an apple from his hand. Scorpion and Kasztanka nosed at each other and snorted softly. The pair seemed to be getting along well.

Eskel rummaged in his bag for a bit to eat, procuring a lump of hard cheese and some stale bread. He stretched out by a log on the forest floor and ate slowly, eyes traveling across Magda’s sleeping form. She was lithely built but strong. Her auburn hair was braided in twin plaits down the back of her head. He remembered her cat like grace from the night before, her silent steps and meticulous strikes, the furious fire that had burned in her green eyes.

Kasztanka whinnied and Magda stirred, stretching and yawning before rising from the bedroll. It was still early, a cool mist hung in the air of the clearing. Rubbing her eyes she looked over at Eskel observing her. She still had dried blood on her face and she moved her arm a bit stiffly.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked

She tested the range of motion slowly. “Not bad. Don’t think I’ll be able to wield a sword for a few days though.” She dug in her saddle bags and pulled out a knife and a half loaf of bread. “ I must thank you again for your help yesterday.”

“Didn’t do much really” he shrugged. “Watched the scene unfold from the trees. You move …” he looked for the right word. “... like …. like a dancer almost. It was quite something to see. Sat there a while before you started. Was thinking about jumping in to rescue you, but I guess you had the situation under control.”

“Do all witchers roam the woods looking for maidens in distress? Perhaps if there were more of you I would be out of a job.” She teased. 

Eskel rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I wouldn’t go as far as gallant, I sat and watched those bastards drink and then the maiden rescued herself. Quite skillfully I might add.”

“I was slow.” she said simply. “That blade was heavy and he got a dagger strike in. Need to spend more time training with heavy weapons.”

Her own sword lay at her feet, Elven construction from the look of the detailing, a slender bastard sword with the hilt wrapped in slyzard skin. Delicate runes ran the length of the blade. He understood what she meant. Her own sword was clearly sized for her slender frame. The heavy two-hander she had wielded in the fight was much too large for her, had slowed her movements and the stocky man with the dagger had managed to catch her as she pirouetted prior to her killing blow.

“You’re right.” Eskel said simply, slicing off some cheese and handing it to her “ That was a large sword for you, slowed your reactions. Can’t really pirouette properly with an overweight sword like that. Requires more of a heavy handed tactic.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“If it weren’t for this damn shoulder, I’d ask for some pointers.” She smiled at him and he felt his face flush slightly. She was beautiful, even with her face dirtied with dried blood, and sleep still in her eyes.

“You aren’t afraid of me.” he stated.

“ You’ve given me no reason to be.” she replied. “ I don’t listen to hearsay and I don’t judge those whose deeds I don’t know.”

“Still. My ugly mug tends to get a very different reaction.” He scratched absentmindedly at the scars on his face. “Folk don’t tend to trust Witchers.”

“I’ve heard the tales the villagers tell, and heard the songs that bard sings. I assume the truth of the matter is somewhere in the middle.” she sliced off a thick piece of bread and handed it to him. I was nearly fresh, a significant upgrade from the stale crust he had.

He laughed. “I suppose that’s about right. Somewhere between demon spawn and gallant knight. I know the bard that wrote those songs actually. He’s a decent fellow. Bit dramatic on occasion but I would count him as a friend.”

“Are you in those songs?” she tilted her head coyly “Great slayer of devils? Protector of humanity?”

“Nah, not me. I’m just a humble travelling Witcher. My deeds aren’t grand enough to make for good songs. I do know the subject of the tales though. We grew up together. Geralt's a better poster boy for the guild. The ladies love him, gods know I don’t understand why, he’s a broody old bastard if you ask me.”

“Maybe they like the way he broods. A sense of mystery in a man can be quite attractive you know.” She takes a sip from her waterskin. And tossed a smirk towards him.

They finish their breakfast in easy silence. Eventually Magda rose and walked towards the creek. She shucked off her leather jacket, undid the hardened leather corset and gently pulled her linen shirt over her head. Once again she was in her thin linen bodice. Taking a small rag she carefully cleaned her face and chest with creek water, removing the dried blood from below her nose and along her hairline.

“May I have a look at your wound? It should be cleaned and I have a salve.” He tried hard to keep his eyes trained on her face, and not let them wander along the freshly exposed skin of her chest and belly.

She nodded.

Eskel retrieved a pot of salve from his bag and joined Magda at the creek. Carefully, he peeled back the bandage, pausing to work the fabric free of the wound where it had stuck with dried blood. The wound still looks sore and angry, but he didn’t see any sign of infection. He carefully spread a generous amount of salve along the length of it, and she drew in a quick breath as his finger traversed the line of stitches.

“Sorry.” he murmured. “ I know this stuff stings like a sonofabitch.”

He redressed her wound after carefully cleaning the area. She dressed back into her armour and they return to the horses.

“Where are you headed?” she asked. Somehow it felt like a loaded question.

“Oxenfurt eventually.” he replied. “Need to stop off in the village nearby first to collect my pay. I also had a job yesterday.”

“What a happy coincidence.” she replied “I’m headed to Oxenfurt as well. Need to visit my employer to collect my dues. Care to travel together? I’ve heard Witchers are the solitary type, but I must admit I enjoy company on the road and company with two good swords wouldn’t go amiss in these parts.”

He nodded in response “It might just be Geralt who’s the solitary type” he said with a smile. “Not all of us are as moody as the songs might imply.”

They packed up their camp, saddled the horses and began to ride at an easy pace towards the high road. She held the reins loose in her good hand. With her face now free of dried blood, Eskel could see a spray of freckles across her face. Her hands were strong, calloused from time spent with a sword. Her posture was erect on the horse, as they walked along the road, her eyes swept back and forth, habitually scouting the area in front of them for dangers.

The journey to the village was uneventful, but took the better part of the day. They could have pushed their horses and arrived quickly, but the day was pleasant and neither of them seemed to be in a hurry. They stopped twice to eat and let the horses rest.

Magda was an easy conversationalist. She and Eskel traded tales from the road, comparing places they had been. She had travelled extensively, along the length and breadth of the continent. When he’d asked where she hailed from however, she was silent.

“Nowhere.” she replied stiffly. He didn’t pursue the line of question, instead steering the conversation to a particularly humorous contract he’d taken the last time he was in this region.

“...and then it turned out that there wasn’t a wraith at all, just a bunch of horny teens using the man’s barn to hook up in. Let me tell you, explaining the situation to that old farmer was not a conversation I care to have again.”

They were both laughing as they rode into the village.

Magda stopped at the Inn and Eskel went to find the alderman to collect his pay. They had decided to spend the night in town, allowing for a nights sleep indoors before continuing on the road.

After some bartering with the alderman, Eskel managed to increase his rate. Taking down the grave hag the day before had been a much more difficult task than the agreed upon drowner cull. Eskel had worked in this area before, and the alderman knew him to be honest and reliable. He left with his purse heavy, ready to enjoy a hot meal indoors.

He arrived at the inn just after sundown and found Magda at a table in the corner. The inn was crowded and noisy. Several heads turned when he entered the door, and eyes followed him as he walked across the room to join her. She waved the innkeeper over and he brought two steaming bowls of stew, loaf of warm bread, and two large mugs of ale to the table.

“They only had one room left.” she said shortly, taking a drink.

“It's ok.” he responded. ‘I don’t mind the stable.”

She stared him in the eye incredulously. “You’ll do no such thing. There’s plenty of space in the room and you’ve shown yourself to be trustworthy.”

He looked at her a moment, unsure of how to respond. Eventually he shrugged and took a bite of his stew. “ If you say so.” A low heat rose in his gut, but he ignored it and finished his meal.


	4. Clean and Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel jerks off in the bath. That's it. That's the chapter.

He had tried to offer her coin to pay for half of the room but she had flatly refused, insisting that she needed to repay his kindness from the night before. Magda had arranged for a bath to be drawn after dinner. He’d almost protested but she had bluntly stated that no man smelling of grave hag bile would be welcome in her room.

Eskel deposited his things in their room. It was small but clean, with a large bed and a small fireplace for warmth. He shucked off the outer layer of armour and placed it in a corner. Bath sheet in hand, he padded down the hall to the bathing room. Magda had insisted he take the first bath while she tended to the horses. No amount of arguing could change her mind and she’d practically pushed him up the stairs, pressing a bar of soap into his hand as she did. She was stubborn and spirited, but had smiled throughout their friendly argument.

Eskel sighed as he lowered himself into the water. It had been some time since his last proper bath. He relished the feeling of the warm water on his skin. He lathered the bar of soap in the water, and a familiar herbal scent caught his attention. It was her soap, her scent, rosemary and mint.

He washed himself top to bottom, scrubbing himself vigorously at first, then slowing down, enjoying the feeling of clean warmth around his body.

Finally, he lay still, allowing his muscles to relax. The scent of the soap pervading his hyper acute senses. The image of Magda’s face scrolled through his mind. Her freckles, the warmth of her smile, the curve of her chest peeking out from her linen bodice, the way the muscles in her back moved under her skin. He felt his cock twitch.

No. He thought to himself. Don’t ruin this. She seems nice, she trusts you. Don’t live up to the lecherous Witcher stereotype.

His body betrayed him, cock steadily growing harder as he pictured the rise and fall of her chest, he imagined the sounds she would make, the way her face would look screwed up in ecstasy. He slowly gripped the base of his cock and stroked himself lazily. It had been awhile since he had been able to relax and bring himself pleasure. Longer still since he had felt the warm touch of another person. The path had been hard this season. There had been few friendly faces in towns, and more than once he had been denied a room indoors.

On the road he was always keyed up, for safety. Always alert to potential threats in the woods. Unable to relax, his needs were taken care of in a perfunctory manner, favouring speed over langourous touch. But here, in this inn, he was safe, he was warm, and he let himself go.

He imagined what her hands would feel like; calloused like his, but smaller. Thin clever fingers gripping him, stroking him. Would she murmur in his ear? Press her breasts against his broad chest? Tell him how big he was? He imagined her hands running over his scarred torso, short nails scratching at his chest, fingers running through his hair, pulling it just hard enough to hold his head in place. He imagined the feel of her lips on his, the taste of her tongue.

How would her skin feel? Her body had known battle, that was clear to see. What scars was she hiding under that bodice? What would it feel like to trace the lines on her back and. What would it feel like if she traced the lines on his face. His scar itched at the thought.

Would she be loud or quiet? Where would she want to be touched? He imagined cupping her small breasts, as she rode him. Imagined the fire in her eyes staring down at him, as if into his soul. The only sound in the room was the lapping of water on the side of the tub, and the small muffled grunts he made as his hand moved up and down his considerable length.

He reached a hand lower to tug at his balls, and released a small sigh. Eskel continued to stroke the length of his cock, increasing in speed as he chase his high, faster and faster until bringing himself to shuddering completion, the water clouded with his spend. He sat motionless in the bath for a moment, then stepped out, and dried himself off. He cursed himself silently.

He was no fool, knew he was no beauty. A pretty girl pays him an ounce of attention and he has to go and jerk off in the bath. Stupid enamoured idiot.

He wrapped a towel low around his hips, emptied the water from the tub and refilled it with fresh, using Igni to heat the clean water, ready for Magda. The thought that she would soon be sitting, naked, right where he had…. His cock gave another twitch.

No. Can’t. Don’t think about it. Don’t ruin this.


	5. Soft Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing fluff for Eskel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok one fluffy chapter and then we'll get back to some actual plot.

Eskel returned to their room with a bath sheet slung low over his hips. Magda was sitting in front of the fire with a book. She’d removed her armour, which had been placed in the corner with his own. She’d seated herself leaning against the hearth of the fireplace in a flowing linen tunic open at the top, revealing the curve of her breasts. He stammered an apology as he entered, suddenly aware of how little he’s wearing, clearing his throat he fumbled in his bag for a clean shirt and trousers.

She laughed lightly and cocked her head.

“Please, as if I haven’t seen a man in a towel before.” She stood and collected her own bath sheet, brushing against his arm as she left the room and walked down the hall. Eskel exhaled thickly once she was gone. He cursed under his breath and slumped to the bed. 

He dressed quickly in clean braies, soft trousers, and a thin tunic. He tidied his things into a neat pile at the foot of the bed, stashed his steel sword under the bed, and placed a dagger on the table next to the head of the bed. Once he had put order to the small room, he picked up the book that Magda left behind and looked at the cover. It was a well worn copy of Half a Century of Poetry by the Bard Dandelion. He shook his head. Say what you will about the bard, the man was a prolific writer. He flips to a random page and begins to read. He’s read the book before and finds comfort in the familiar words.

Magda returned some time later, bringing with her the renewed scent of herbal soap. Her hair had been washed and hung long and loose down her back. She’s wrapped herself in a towel, exposing her long legs.

“Enjoying the book?” she tilted her head to one side and looked at him.

“Read it before... several timesactually... the writer's a friend. Uses Dandelion as a nome de plume. Prefers to be called Jaskier. Of course I’ve never told him that, pretty sure he thinks I can’t read.” he replied, putting the book to the side.

Magda sat carefully on the edge of the bed, rummaging through her bag for clean clothes. Eskel sat up, looking at her shoulder still wrapped in a bandage.

“I should change that bandage before you dress.” he said softly. Slowly moving his hands up to her arm.

She nodded in approval, brushing her hair to the side to allow him access. He slowly untied the knot holding the bandage in place, his fingers gliding over the skin of her arm, giving him goosebumps. The wound no longer looked angry or red. He retrieved the pot of salve and applied a new layer before wrapping her arm in a clean strip of cloth, carefully retying the knot, brushing his fingertips across her shoulder once more, trying to savour this excuse to be close to her. He cleared his throat and shifted away once his task was complete, politely looking away so she could change.

When he looked back, she wore a clean linen tunic and men's braies.

“I hope it’s ok,” she said “when possible I prefer not to sleep in trousers. Please, wear whatever you’re most comfortable in.

Eskel nodded, and shucked off his tunic. He paused for a moment, thinking, and then removed his trousers as well, leaving him in only his braies. It was getting late, and the events from the night before combined with a day of riding had left him somewhat fatigued. They both lay down, and Eskel fell asleep in a matter of minutes, lulled by the soft sound of Magda’s breathing.

When he woke in the morning he found his face buried in her hair, arm wrapped protectively around her waist, her back flush against his chest. He inhaled the scent of her, her breathing was still slow and even. She murmured in her sleep, and her hand had gripped his arm, holding him in place. The warmth of her back against him was intoxicating. With startled embarrassment he realized his cock was half hard against her backside. He shifted slightly, trying to remove the offending presence from her body without waking her. Dawn had just broken judging by the soft light filling the room. She murmured again and rolled over, facing him and grasping at his arm, holding him tightly against her. He could feel the soft puffs of her breath on his chest. He lay still, not wanting to wake her, both enjoying the moment, and fearful that she would react poorly to their close contact upon waking.

He lay like this for several minutes, suddenly her eyes fluttered open and captured him in her soft gaze.

“Sorry.” she said with an embarrassed smile. “ I should have warned you… I can be a little handsy in my sleep. She released her hold on him slowly, trailing her hands across his shoulder as she did. Looking at his face, she carefully raised a hand and let her fingers trail down one of the deep furrowed scars on his cheek. He flinched slightly at her touch, unaccustomed to the softness in it.

“What monster would do this to such a handsome face?”

“Wasn’t a monster.” he said quietly. “Was an accident. She didn’t mean it.”

“A woman?”

“It’s complicated.”

She didn’t press the issue, but returned her hand to his cheek, her thumb raking over the angry lines dividing his face “ Still, a handsome face nonetheless.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came. Her gaze met his again and she smiled before sitting up abruptly.

“I suppose we can’t laze around in bed all day.” she said “Need to get to Oxenfurt or I don’t get paid.” she stood from the bed and began to collect her clothing and armour.


	6. Days on the high road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Magda ride towards Oxenfurt. Eskel learns what a Reaper is.

Eskel and Magda dressed and packed quickly. Magda finished first and hauled her saddle bags downstairs. Eskel sighed deeply once she left the room. Had she called him handsome? Even the most generous descriptions of his appearance in the past had stopped short of that.

Pull yourself together. He thought, roughly shoving his remaining gear into his saddlebags. He picked up his weapons and walked down the stairs to meet Magda in the stables. She had purchased some supplies from the innkeeper, including fresh bread and dried fruit for breakfast. They saddled up the horses and rode slowly through the village, heading towards the city of Oxenfurt. It would take them some time to reach the city. They had decided on the best route and had set off feeling refreshed. For a week they rode at a comfortable pace, trading stories and sharing meals.

He learned that Magda had trained under the legendary mercenary Julia Abatemarco, also known as “Pretty Kitty”, formerly a member of Adieu’s Free Company. Julia had fought in several memorable battles during the second northern war against Nilfgaard, and held the respect of many.

“She was fierce in training.” Magda recalled “I can only imagine what she was like in battle.” Magda had learned sword play, strategy and hand to hand combat from the warrior, along with survival skills, deception, and tracking. “I owe her my life many times over. She taught me how to survive as a woman alone in the world. I still like to drop in on her every now and then. Her door is always open, she’s a fine woman.”

“I’ve never met her, but she has a fearsome reputation.” Eskel agreed “hard to believe she settled down after the war.”

Magda nodded. “Her daughter was a little hellcat when she was young. She’ll be besting all of the village boys in no time. Takes after her mother.”

Eskel in turn told her about his youth at Kaer Morhen, about the sacking of the fortress, about Lambert, Geralt, and Vesemir.

“Sounds like a good family to have, given the circumstance.”

He nodded in agreement. “Vesemir was more of a father to me than my real father. I try to get back to the fortress for the winter season whenever I can.”

She'd asked about his medallion, and he'd explained it was not only a symbol of his school, but also a powerful magical tool. She'd taken to calling him "Wolf" in a teasing voice.

They spend most of the nights camping out, Magda laid her bedroll close to Eskel’s. More often than not, he woke tangled in her limbs, her warm breath on his neck or chest.

One night she awoke screaming and sweating from a nightmare, eyes wild in fear and he’d held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder. She didn’t want to talk about the subject of the dream, and he didn’t push her. He’d held her and whispered calming words into her ear while rubbing slow circles on her back. She’d clutched at him desperately in return until her breathing slowed, falling back to sleep in his arms.

She hummed to herself when they set up camp. Never the same song twice, and never anything Eskel recognized. He suspected she made the tunes up herself but never asked.

Occasionally their conversation would turn to their professional interests. He told her about his potions and oils, and explained in rough details what made a Witcher different from a normal man, glossing over the finer details of the trial of the grasses. To her delight, he demonstrated his signs. She listened with rapt attention to details of how to hunt different post conjunction creatures.

He asked her about her contracts in turn “What sort of people hire you?” he’d asked one day.

She shrugged. “All sorts really. Merchants, bankers, blacksmiths, anyone who has been victim of serious violence and has the resources for retribution. Some have daughters that have been kidnapped and sold into slavery, some have sisters who have been raped and left for dead on highways, some have brothers cut down by bandits. I only get into contracts with victims of unwarranted violence. I’m no common sell-sword.” She paused for a moment “When we met you called me an assassin. Those who hire me know me as a Reaper. I’m who they send for when there is no one else to turn to. A dispenser of final justice. My clients know I take no prisoners and can't be bought off.”

“What was the job I met you at?” He’d wanted to ask the question for days.

She stared at the distance for a moment. “ That was one of my bigger jobs.” she said finally. “The Nowak gang. They were responsible for the kidnapping of at least twenty women. Fifteen were sold into slavery and shipped god knows where. They change hands so many times along the way it's difficult to track. Five didn’t survive the kidnapping process.” She paused and took a sip from her water skin. “The old one was Jakob Kowak, and the little rat faced bastard was his son Antoni” she looked away again. “I knew where they were going to be hunting, and allowed myself to be taken. For three days I was pulled behind that cart, acting like a cowering victim. I waited until we were far enough from the road, and they were drunk enough to lower their guard. I thought it would have happened sooner. Didn’t expect it to take so long, but it happened in the end. My fee was put up by a collective of grieving parents.”

They sat in silence for some time. She passed him the water skin and he took a long drink.

“You were right.” he said finally. “We do both hunt monsters of a sort.”

He had kept a close eye on her wound, which was healing well under the careful application of his salve.

They had stopped beside a river for a midday meal after a week on the road. It was a pleasant day, and the sun beat down warmly. Magda had removed her armour and tunic for Eskel to inspect her shoulder. She no longer required bandages as the wound had begun to heal over and was no longer at risk of bleeding.

“I think the stitches may be ready to come out.” he remarked “You heal fast for a human.” he carefully cut the thread and removed the stitches by the side of a creek.

“Ah that feels much better.” she flexed her arm and moved her shoulder experimentally. “They were starting to itch terribly.”

“Think you can try out your sword?”

She walked over to Kasztanka and retrieved her eleven blade. She swung it several times before nodding. “ I think it should be ok. I must say it’s healed well under your care.” She gave him a warm look . “Perhaps you were meant to be a healer.”

“Useful skills to have in my line of work.”

“Come on Wolf, spar with me. I need to work up a sweat and my sword hand has been empty for too long.”


	7. Between Steel and Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel shows off his ... swordplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT.

He hefted his steel sword in hand and turned to face her, when he met her gaze she had a frightening glint in her eye “You’ve had a lot of time with my softer nature. Time you meet the professional side.” She tapped his blade with hers and she flashed him a deadly smile.

“Alright, let's see what you can do. Attack.” He smiled at her, his scarred face made his grin look dangerous.

She moved with impressive speed, mixing pirouettes, half turns, and feints in with her attacks. Her blade seemed like an extension of her arm, whirling with deadly precision. He blocked her attacks, but if he had been a hair slower, she would have bested him. Her small size meant she had to use his momentum against him, redirecting his force with small rapid blows. After several minutes of this dance, both parties were breathing heavily and sweating.

“You’re quicker than you look Wolf.” she smirked at him, her eyes still sharp.

“If I were a normal man, I’d have been on my knees ages ago.” he admitted, dodging a swing of her sword with a half pirouette.

“Good thing you aren’t a normal man.” She bared her teeth.

They whirled around each other, blades meeting with the sharp sound of scraping metal. He blocked a blow near his face. She was so close to him, he could hear her elevated pulse, felt her quick breaths on his face. He reached out and grabbed her sword arm, twisting the sword towards the ground, using his strength and size to his advantage. “Do you yield?” He breathed out, staring into her eyes. He towered over her, a wall of defined muscle against her slender frame. They stood like this for 3 heartbeats before colliding in a kiss.

They both dropped their swords. Her hands came up and tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to elicit a low growl from him. He bit her lower lip softly as his hands travelled across her back, moving down to her hips, her buttocks, lifting her easily from the ground. She didn’t resist, wrapping her legs around his waist and deepening the kiss. His hands kneaded into her muscular buttocks and she cupped his cheek with one hand while weaving the either even tighter into his hair.

He carried her easily back towards their camp, awkwardly dipping down to bring them to the ground. They both landed heavily on the bedrolls without breaking their kiss. He was on top of her, his expansive chest covered her small frame. She looked him in the eye, that dangerous spark still present.

“It’s about time.” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve been trying to pull this from you since the day we met.” she bit along the shell of his ear and he suppressed a small shudder.

“I thought it was just me.” he breathed. “I haven’t thought of anything else since I first saw you.” he kisses down the length of her neck, burying his face between her breasts.

“If I had known that this was the way you wanted it, I would have fought you on day one.”

He pauses to pull his jacket and tunic off then turns back to her. His large fingers were clumsy on the knots of her jacket and tunic, but eventually he freed her from the garments, exposing her pale chest, dotted with freckles. She raised a hand between them and traced the length of scar across his chest. “Griffon.” he said quietly. His hands found a large star shaped mark on her ribcage. “Crossbow.” she said in return. He returned his attention to her face, drawing her into a deep kiss, his hands roving over her breasts, splaying on her belly, teasing lower.

“If you want to stop at any point, tell me, it’s ok.” he whispered into her mouth.

“Wolf if you stop, I’ll have to go back to fighting you.” she snaps her teeth at his neck

A growl rumbled in his chest.

He worked her trousers down slowly, teasingly, running his hands along the length of her leg, savouring the softness of her skin.

He pauses to untie the laces of his own trousers and slides them to the ground in a fluid motion. Standing over her, she looks up at him, scanning his body from top to bottoom, her gaze pausing briefly as it passes over his already hard cock. She gives a small purr of approval.

“Gods be good you’re even more gorgeous than I had imagined” she said in a low voice.

“You spend a lot of time imagining.” he cocked his eyebrow at her.

“Once or twice.” she admits “I may have been a little … overexcited in the bath at the Inn.” she bites her lip in a playful way.

He lowers himself back to the ground, bringing his body flush with hers. “You weren’t the only one, believe me.” he whispers in her ear.

With that he kisses her neck, and begins to work his way down her body, trailing a line of small bites and kisses as he moves. She tangles her hand in his unruly hair, tugging gently at the roots. He growls in appreciation.

He pauses at her pubic bone, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good” he exhales. Slowly he moves lower, almost cautious in his movements, giving her time to protest if she wants. His hands grip her thighs as he buries his face into her cunt, tongue finding her clit with practiced ease. He slides one hand between her thighs and penetrates her with a finger, working the digit in and out with a steady rhythm. The grip on his hair becomes stronger and her breathing grows ragged. He listens closely to her heart rate and breathing, he can practically feel her orgasm building and he increases the tempo, licking and sucking gently on her clit. He can feel his cock harden even more as she keens high and loud. He lays the flat of his tongue on her sensitive area, providing gentle pressure to guide her through the orgasm.

She groans in appreciation “Such a specimen between my legs, what have I done to deserve this. Gorgeous and generous, how are other men to compete?”

He growls in response “I thought we established earlier than I am no normal man.”

“You’ve just further confirmed the theory.” she laughs and pulls him back up towards her bringing him into another deep kiss. They are both lying on their sides, facing one another, bodies flush together. She kisses along his jaw line, along the sensitive skin of his scars, one hand never loosening their hold on his hair. Her other hand glides lower, teasing along his chest, his belly, drawing small circles on the way, before her finger tips finally reach his aching cock. He draws a shuddering breath when she wraps her hand around his length.

“Such a big man.” she sighs into his ear. “Want to feel you inside me, fill me up.”

“Is that so.”

“I’ve been empty for so long. Waiting for a man like you to take me.” She tugs on his balls and he shudders involuntarily. ”Such a big strong man. I want you to take me hard.”

“Be careful what you wish for Fox.”

The teasing is too much for Eskel, it’s been too long since he’s felt another’s touch, he snarls and flips her onto her back, eliciting a surprised huff from Magda. He enters her with one fast motion until he has buried his cock into her up to the hilt. She lets out a moan that makes him twitch inside her. She’s tight and soft and warm.

He gives her a moment to regain her breath, before he begins to thrust, fast and powerful. She regains her senses and brings a hand up to grasp his ass, digging her fingers into the flesh. She keens as he pounds into her, not slowing his pace. She rolls her hips beneath him, seeking friction. He draws a hand down her body and begins to play with her clit while he rides her, drawing another powerful orgasm from her in the process. He works her through the wave of pleasure before he cums hard, with an animalistic snarl.

He collapsed down on top of her, his cock still deep inside her, kissing along the side of her neck.

“Gods you feel so good.” he mumbled into her neck.

She runs her hands over the expanse of his back, drawing small circles with her calloused fingers. “You’ve some skill yourself Wolf. I’m going to feel it tomorrow when we ride.” She nips at his ear once more.

“You’ve killed me you she-devil” he sighs into her hair. “I’ve died. This must be witcher heaven.” She laughs and runs her hand down his neck.

He pulls out of her and they lay entwined in each other's arms, the fire in her eyes replaced by a pleasant warmth. She traces her fingers along the lines of his face.

They remained like this for some time, warmed by the sun and the heat of each other's bodies.


	8. Memories Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Magda delight in each other... until they reach Oxenfurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A weeeeeeee bit of smut, but buckle up for the serious plot development

They had slept in a close embrace that night, Magda murmuring “My sweet witcher.” into his ear before drifting off to sleep. 

They continued on much as they had before, still riding slowly, cracking jokes and telling tales. Their meal breaks grew longer however, often interrupted by explorations of each other's bodies. Eskel felt like he was making up for lost time. He delighted in the feel of her hands on his bare skin. 

Two days down the road they had camped by a lazy river. When Magda had finished unsaddling Kasztanka, he’d sidled up behind her and wrapped his arm around her midsection, pulling her tight to him. In a matter of moments they had both shed their armour and were rutting in the grass like horny teens. 

Sometimes they moved slowly, Magda tracing her hands over the hills and valleys of his body like she was making a map of him. Eskel pulling her in for soft kisses and loving affirmations. He spooned his body around her from behind, whispering adorations into her ear while he thrust into her slow and languorous, working her through orgasm after orgasm.

Other times they fucked like animals, snapping teeth and wild lust. Eskel pushing her up against a tree in full armour. She fumbled with the ties of his codpiece while he struggled to push her trousers down. He had railed into her with furious abandon while she snarled in his ear and pulled his hair. Eskel couldn’t say which he liked better. Everytime with Magda brought him more pleasure than the time before. 

One memorable morning he had woken to the feeling of her tongue on the underside of his cock. She worked his length in and out of her throat while she massaged his balls. He saw stars when he came, and had howled so loudly that a flock of birds had taken flight from a nearby tree. She’d slithered up his body and wrapped her leg around his hips, kissing him deeply before climbing up and bringing his throbbing length inside her cunt, slick with desire. She rode him as the dawn broke, keening loudly and working him over with deep thrusts. The sight of her riding his cock, wild hair and bare breasts had sustained him all day. 

As much time as they spent fucking, they also worked hard training. The two were equally skilled with a blade, but their vastly different anatomy meant they employed different tactics. Magda practiced with Eskels heavy sword, readying herself for the next time she was caught without her slim elven blade. Eskel worked on footwork, transitioning away from his heavy handed technique towards flowing graceful style. 

When they rode, they preferred a walking pace, laughing and swapping travel stories. Magda had begun to sing around camp. They were mostly nonsense songs of her own invention, but occasionally she would start in on some of Dandelions lyrics. Her voice was untamed, she rarely kept tune, but Eskel could think of no sweeter sound. Magda made up stories about the constellations as they lay on their bedrolls at night while Eskel brushed out her long wild hair. They had quickly fallen into an easy rhythm together. Neither brought up what would happen when they reached Oxenfurt, but the question hung like a solitary cloud on a sunny day. 

The day did come however, when they reached the city gates. They crossed the bridge at mid day. Magda’s contact was to meet her at the Alchemy Inn. 

“Probably best if I deal with this alone.” She said with a shrug. “They hired me alone and no offense, but you can be a tiny bit intimidating to some.” she squeezed his bicep affectionately. 

He didn’t argue. She was a professional and knew her own business. He wandered into town, stopping at a merchant’s stall to pick up some provisions. He was paying for his wares when something caught his eye at the stall. A small broach. It looked like the coat of arms of some forgotten noble family. A fox and a wolf, eyes inlaid with onyx. The merchant nodded his approval at Eskel’s choice of trinket. “She must be quite special.” Eskel didn’t respond. With the look on his face, he didn’t need to. 

He planned to ask her to keep travelling with him. Or to allow him to travel with her. Either way. It didn’t matter to him who followed who, so long as they remained together. He walked into the Alchemy Inn an hour after he had parted with Magda. He figured he’d grab a drink in the corner and read while she concluded her business. His feet were weary from walking around on the cobbled streets and he was ready for an ale and a meal. 

He walked quietly into the Inn and stood by the bar waiting for the Innkeeper to bring him a drink. Magda was in the corner seated across from a bald man with a long scar on his chin, visible through his well groomed beard. He ahd the air of nobility about him, and his clothing was rich. 

Eskel couldn’t see Magda's face, and he doubted she’d seen him walk in. Her posture was rigid and upright but he could see the knuckles of her hand were blanched white, her fist clenched tight and shaking ever so slightly. If it weren’t for his enhanced senses, he wouldn’t have noticed it from this far away. He chose a seat two tables away. Making sure to stay out of her line of sight, not wanting to startle her. He sipped at his ale, watching the man out of the corner of his eye. 

The man had pulled a dagger from his belt and twirled it around. Eskel saw Magda twitch. He strained his ears to try and hear what they were talking about. 

His mind raced. Magda had described her clients as grieving parents, a traveling merchant and his wife who had lost their only child. The man with the dagger didn’t seem to match that description. 

“...I have missed these little chats you know Kaja, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” The bald man stood, tucking the dagger back into his belt. As he walked past Magda he ran a hand across her hair and Eskel saw her stiffen. “You have two days. You know my reputation so I don’t need to explain to you how badly things will go for you if you don’t play nice.”

The man turned and strode out of the inn. The door closed behind him and Magda released a low shuddering breath. She began to shake slightly. Eskel stood quickly and moved up next to hear. At the sound of his approach she turned around wildly, eyes dark with fear. 

“Mags?” he said asked softly. “You ok?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and released another shuddering breath and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “C'mon lets go upstairs. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.” He guided her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. They walked slowly up the stairs to their rented room. Eskel closed the door behind him and Magda sat heavily on the bed. 

She sat motionless, staring at the wall. Eskel sat down behind her and pulled her close, his arms wrapped protectively around her, leaning his chin on her shoulder. 

Several minutes passed and they sat in silence. Eskel rocked them gently side to side kissing her neck. 

She finally choked out the words like a curse, “He found me.”


	9. Risen Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magda talks. Eskel listens. 
> 
> ** Warning: discussion of past traumas including sexual violence and rape/non-con**

Eskel waited for her to say something. He held her close.

“He found me” she repeated. Her voice sounded hollow.

“Mags…”

She turned around and looked him in the eye but said nothing.

“Mags…Fox… who was that?”

“Gideon Krol.” she said finally.

Eskel swallowed thickly but remained still. Gideon Krol. He knew that name. Head of the Krol syndicate. The most powerful crime family in Temeria, arguably the most powerful on the continent.

“You asked me once where I was from.” Magda spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “It's not something I like to talk about.” her face was unreadable

Eskel nodded and tightened his hold on her. “I’m here for you Fox.”

She was silent a moment considering how to begin, and then started to speak in a hollow voice.

“My mother was enslaved to the Krol family. She never told me where she was from, what her life had been like before she was taken, but based on her accent I think she was Nilfgaardian, from the far south most likely.

"I have no idea who my father was. I don’t think mother knew either. She was brought in as a party favour when Krol had guests, passed roughly between many sets of hands. I remember the bruises on her face, the lash marks on her body. She died at one of those sets of hands when I was a child.” Magda looked at the floorboards. “Krol kept me in the kitchens for several years, but when I turned 15 he decided it was time I take my mother’s place. I thought I would die that first night. It was horrible. Worse than the most painful torture I could have imagined.”

“Your nightmares…” Eskel murmured and held her tight.

She nodded. “For two years I serviced them before I managed to escape. Gave him that scar on his chin on my way out the door. I knew he would pursue me, I knew too much. Even if I managed to evade him, he had powerful enemies that could use me as leverage. Nowhere was safe. I hid on the road for nearly a year. Slept in forests, stayed off main roads. I was ragged and desperate by the time Julia found me. She hid me, cared for me, taught me to fight, to defend myself. She gave me the skills to get retribution, and I became a Reaper. If not for her I would have died.”

“That was 10 years ago. In those first few years I would hide my face when I went into towns, I avoided contact with people. A mysterious reputation works well for a hired killer. If anything my elusiveness was an asset to my business. I made enough coin to keep myself fed, and never stayed in one place for too long. I thought that he would have forgotten about me by this point. Guess I was wrong”

“I slipped up.” She continued. “Kowak’s gang worked for Krol. I should have realized, should never have taken that job.”

“Krol expected Kowak in Vizima and when he didn’t show, he tracked down the bodies. Someone gave him my description and he tracked me here. He’s already killed my clients. Tortured them for information first. Gods… they were good people… just wanted retribution for their lost daughter… It’s all my fault.”

Eskel rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Not your fault Fox.” he murmured. “You can’t control another’s blade.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“He called you Kaja. Is that your real name. Don’t have to tell me if you don’t want”

She looked him in the eye. “No. Not my real name” she was blunt. “He called me Kaja when he didn’t just call me Whore. Julia called me Hanna. You call me Magda. Others have called me a dozen different names. Not sure I have a real name anymore.”

“You get to decide what your real name is Fox.”

“It feels like my real name when you say it.”

“Magda” he breathed her name like a prayer. “Let me stay with you. We’ll get through this together.” He paused.”I can’t…. I’ve never… I… I think I love you.”

She stared up at his face, her eyes were holding back tears. Her hand caressed his cheek. “Let you stay? Wolf I would beg you to stay.” She buried her face in his shoulder and he held her close, running a hand through her hair. “But you shouldn’t love me.” she whispered, almost too low for him to hear. “It’ll get you into trouble.”

“Been in trouble lots before.” he whispered back, kissing the top of her head. “Always managed to get out.”

“Eskel?”

“Yeah Fox?”

“I think I love you too.”


	10. The reaper comes to call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magda explains the situation. Plans are made.
> 
> ** graphic violence**

Eskel didn’t ask her any more questions that night. She had a far away look in her eyes, and she twitched at unexpected small noises. He’d held her close and whispered affirmations into her ear, running his calloused fingers through her hair and humming softly until she’d fallen into a fitful sleep. She’d woken several times in the night, her breathing fast and ragged and he’d calmed her with soothing touch and soft words. He didn’t need to sleep, remaining vigilant all through the night with a dagger tucked under his pillow, watching over her. 

When the sun rose in the morning her eyes fluttered open. The vacant stare was gone. There was steel in her gaze now. A furious anger burned just below the surface, Eskel could sense it. 

“How much did you hear last night downstairs?” The question was pointed. She knew his hearing was acute. 

“Not much. Just the last exchange really. What happens in two days?”

“Depends on me. He gave me a job. If I fail to deliver, there will be consequences.”

“What sort of job?”

“A bloody one.” She paused. 

“He wants me to assassinate the Redanian royal family. King Radovid, his sisters, and his mother.”

“I take it you aren’t willing.”

“I’m a hunter of rapists, kidnappers and highway robbers. I’m no slayer of kings. Even if I was willing, there's no way I could get it done in two days. This isn’t something I would survive.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“He leverages his whole force against me. When he finds me, which he will, he’ll kill me as slowly and painfully as he can.”

Krol had a reputation for inflicting inventive and long lasting torture on his enemies. Eskel had heard tales that chilled his blood.

“You’ve hidden before.”

“This is different. He knows where I am, knows where I’ve been. He’s found my hiding places. It wouldn’t be as simple as just going to ground. He has men all over the continent. He’s grown in influence in the past years. I might be able to hide for a spell, but he would find me.”

Eskel thought for a moment. 

“He knows about your past connections. He doesn’t know about mine though. We could run. It’s nearly winter. Come with me to Kaer Morhen. The fortress is hidden. Once the snow falls, no one but a wolf school witcher could find the way. It will buy us time to figure out what to do.”

Magda looked him dead in the eyes. Her expression was unreadable. 

“Two skilled blades like ours,” he continued, “We can punch a hole through his forces here in the city and flee. We’ll take forest tracks until we reach Kaedwen. The blue mountains are a maze. Even if he tracks us there, there's no way he can find the fortress.” 

“It’ll be dangerous.” Magda said in a low voice. ”Danger to myself I can handle. I don’t want to drag you into this.” 

“Magda, I kill monsters for a living… so do you. Our whole lives are dangerous.”

Magda considered his words for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. We run. Just need a way to get out of town without being tracked.”

They spend the day planning their escape. Late in the evening Eskel stole down to the stables and saddled both horses. As he passed through the Inn he noticed 3 rough faced thugs sitting in the corner watching him. He tied Scorpion's reins to Kasztanka’s halter to hitch the two together. He patted the stallion’s nose. “It’s going to be a strange couple of days my friend. I hope I see you soon.” Scorpion snorted in response. 

They left any extra gear in the room, each shouldering a light pack. When night fell, they slipped out the window and onto the roof, pulling dark cloaks across their heads and bodies. 

They ran silently across the rooftops towards bridge at the edge of town. The river crossing posed an obstacle. There was no way to swim across without attracting attention. The river was too wide, and the bridge too well guarded. From the shadows of a nearby building, Eskel and Magda surveyed the scene. In addition to the regular Oxenfurt city watch, there was a party of 5 heavily armed men in unadorned cuirasses. Eskel watched their movements for several minutes. Magda stood still as a statue next to him.

“Let me go first.” he said quietly. “I’ll draw fire from the crossbows. A few signs should incapacitate the city guards. Rather not kill the Oxenfurt regulars if we have a choice. They’re just doing their job”

“Don’t care about killing Krol's men, but the guards aren’t likely involved in this.” Magda muttered back. “I’ll take the left flank when the crossbowmen are reloading.”

Eskel nodded in agreement. “If it all goes south, jump into the river and swim for it.

They’d gone over the plan numerous times in the Inn already. They planned to leave a false trail South before diverting back North. At the very least it would buy them a bit of time. 

Eskel looked at Magda. ”No matter what happens, I’m with you.”

Magda nodded sharply. Her eyes were ablaze. She was ready. 

They both drew their swords and moved stealthily towards the bridge. The Oxenfurt regulars stood at the far end of the bridge, guarding against unwanted travellers into the city. The 5 dark clothed ruffians stood leaning against the bridge deck one of the men passed a bottle to another, who drank deeply and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. Eskel breathed out slowly, waiting for the silence to end. 

With a start, he stood and began running full tilt at Krol’s men, sword drawn. One of them picked up a crossbow and fired a bolt in Eskel’s direction. Eskel parried the shot with his sword and was on the group of men in three strides. He swung his sword powerfully, striking to the bone. The crossbowman slumped down lifeless. Whirling around he parried a sword blow from a second ruffian. His parry stunned the man and Eskel grabbed him by the throat and threw him bodily over the side of the bridge. He landed in the water with a loud splash. 

Magda had been hot on Eskel’s heels. She had a sword and dagger drawn and was swinging with razor precision at her target. One ruffian dropped his bottle of liquor as Magda’s blade slit his throat, another was wrestling a sword from his scabbard as Magda thrust the point of her thin elven blade between his ribs. She pirouetted and threw her dagger into the back of the ruffian that was advancing on Eskel. Torchlight illuminated her face and Eskel saw her fury.

The Oxenfurt regulars looked at the pair wide eyed. Eskel made a complicated gesture with his hands and the guards blinked in confusion. 

“You didn’t see anything did you.” Eskel said. It was an instruction, not a question. The two guards men shook their heads slowly.

Magda raised an eyebrow and looked at Eskel. “Axii right? Impressive.”

“Let's get out of here. The effect only lasts for so long.”

They ran to the other side of the bridge and disappeared into the trees.

Silence returned to the Oxenfurt gate. 

The two guards swayed a little on their feet but remained upright, blinking in the moonlight. When questioned later about what happened, one of the guards swore up and down that a wraith had dropped from the sky and rained blood on them. The other couldn’t find any words at all to explain the incident, claiming that one minute they were guarding a peaceful bridge, and the next they were surrounded by carnage. “It was like the reaper of death came to call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of vomited out the first 9 chapters while I was laid off due to COVID... I started work again this week so updates will be less frequent, but I still have lots of story to tell!!
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos! Keep 'em coming!!


	11. Tangled Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Magda travel north to Kaer Morhen.

They moved quietly through the undergrowth, heading south for several hours. Neither Magda nor Eskel said a word for a long time. They traipsed through swamps, waded up streams, and moved like ghosts through the trees. Both were excellent trackers, which provided an advantage when they did not wish to be followed. Eventually they came to a wide slow flowing river. They walked down the bank for some time, leaving conspicuous footprints heading south, then turned back and waded northward through the river itself, the current washing away any trace of their true direction. 

They couldn’t risk a proper camp. While Eskel’s mutations allowed him to go for days without sleep, Magda needed rest. She hadn’t said anything, but Eskel could sense her exhaustion. 

“Mags sit down for a minute. You need to rest.”

“We need to keep moving. Can’t let them find us,”

They were far from any road, and any pursuers they had would be traversing difficult ground. It would be impossible for Krol to send a large party to follow them, they had chosen their terrain well. 

“You need to sleep, you’re dead on your feet.”

He sat on fallen log and pulled Magda down to his lap. She tried halfheartedly to resist, but gave in to his gentle force. She leaned her head on his shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut. He let her sleep for a couple of hours. Dawn came and he whispered in her ear to wake her. 

“Time to go sleepy head.”

She yawned and looked up at him, planting a soft kiss on his neck.

“Thank you.” She paused. “For everything.”

He said nothing, but held her close. 

They continued northward through bracken and fen as much as they could. After 4 days of hard travel they were spat out on a small country track. 

“Think it’s time?” Eskel asked.

Magda thought for a moment before reaching into her bodice and pulling out a small polished stone charm on a chain. She held it close to her lips and whispered something in elvish. Eskel looked at her expectantly. “Did it work? How long does it take.”

“ It’s remarkably consistent actually. Usually about 5 minutes. Distance doesn’t seem to matter.”

They sat in the trees on the side of the track, just out of sight line should someone pass by. 

It was almost 5 minutes on the nose when Eskel heard the soft footfalls of hooves on dirt. He peered from the bushes and saw to his relief, both Kasztanka and Scorpion walking slowly down the road towards them. Magda stepped onto the track and brushed a gentle hand over Kasztanka’s muzzle. Eskel ran a hand through Scorpions mane “Was worried I wouldn’t see you again friend.” he said in a low voice. 

“How does it work?” he asked.

Magda shrugged “I asked the mage I got her from. Something about linked portals and personal magnetism. He tried to explain it to me, but to be honest I don’t have a mind for magic.” 

Their travel became much faster, but also more risky with the horses. They avoid the main road as much as possible. They stretched their supplies thin, trying to avoid trips into villages, lest either of them be recognized. Magda snared a few rabbits one day, and Eskel managed to catch a couple of small fish for dinner later in the week. As he cooked the fish over a small fire he laughed to himself.

“What’s so funny” 

“Geralt has this story about eating fish stew with a company he travelled with once. It’s not particularly funny unless you know Geralt, but it still gets me everytime.” He removed the fish from the fire and separated it into two pieces, handing one to Magda. “He’d just found out that one of his company was a vampire and Geralt had kind of lost it. I mean, the vampire had saved the lives of nearly everyone in the company by this point but I think Geralt was upset that he didn’t recognize man’s true nature sooner. Everyone else in the group was totally on board with the situation because the fellow was polite, helpful, and apparently hadn’t had a drop of blood since before most of them were born. Geralt just couldn’t get over it. So the group made this stew with all of the things each of them had in their packs, pitching in and helping with the meal while Geralt just sat there in his own anger. They invited him to eat with them anyway. After he’d eaten, he forgave the vampire and they became very close friends. Shared meals are powerful I suppose.”

“A witcher and a vampire. The world truly is a place of wonder.” Magda smiled and picked a fish bone from her mouth

“And that’s hardly the strangest thing that’s happened to Geralt. If you can convince him to string a whole sentence together he has some interesting tales to share. You can ask him all about it when we get to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier tells the stories better. That man can spin a yarn, and he was present for many of Geralt’s escapades which means that we all get to hear the tales without Geralt skimping on the particulars.” Eskel smiled warmly. “Winter is good for telling tales.”

Their journey was tense but mostly uneventful. They had run short of supplies when they reached the Kaedwen border and had to stop in town to buy provisions. Eskel insisted that Magda wait in the forest outside of town while he fetched what they needed. His instinct had proven to be good, as there was a crudely drawn portrait of Magda on a wanted poster in town. 

“They’re offering a hefty sum to anyone thick enough to try to take you on.” he’d reported back. “Best if we stick to the trees for a while.”

More nights than not, Eskel stayed awake, meditating for an hour before taking up guard as Magda rested. 

After several weeks of travel they reached the blue mountains. The air had turned cold and the clouds threatened snow, but their path was still clear. Scorpion began to speed up, sensing they were close to their destination. They climbed steadily through the mountainous landscape, wending their way through the maze of narrow valleys. 

There was mist in the valley when they rounded the final corner to bring Kaer Morhen into view. 

“Well,” said Eskel “It's no palace, but it's as close a thing to home as I’ve got.”

Magda took in the view, the crumbling outer wall, the keep set into the mountain wall. “It looks wonderful.” she smiled at him. It was the first time he'd seen her smile in days.

The pair rode up to the main gate at the outer wall. The portcullis was down restricting passage. Eskel dismounted from Scorpion and walked up to the large iron grate. 

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted loudly “Vesemir! Open the gate old man!”

Nothing happened. Magda looked at Eskel expectantly.

“Give it a minute. His ears are still sharp but his old bones are moving a little slow these days.”

Sure enough a minute later the portcullis scrapped into action, rising to allow passage for the two laden horses and their riders. 

Eskel walked through the entrance into the fortress courtyard. Vesemir greeted him with open arms and the two men shared a tight hug. “I see you’ve brought us a guest.” The older witcher said, raising an eyebrow at Eskel. “Knowing you I’m guessing there’s a story.”

“Vesemir, this is Magda. I would have sent a letter to tell you we were coming, but it was too dangerous.”

Vesemir grasped Magda by the hands in greeting and turned a smile. “A story indeed. Eskel make sure the gate is bolted shut. Lambert and Geralt are already here so we aren’t expecting anyone else. Geralt brought that goddamn bard with him again. Something about him needing to escape a jealous ex lover… I’m sure he’ll be happy to regale you with the tale.”

Vesemir lad Magda across the courtyard towards the thick stone walls of the keep

“Alright my dear, let's get you inside, you look dead on your feet.”

Eskel let out a sigh of relief. He was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fish stew scene in the books ( Tower of the Swallow I think??) is one of my favourite scenes.
> 
> (https://www.reddit.com/r/witcher/comments/9xqw7f/the_fish_soup_by_denis_gordeev/ for a retelling of the story)


	12. Kept and safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magda meets the family.
> 
> Everyone is very soft. 
> 
> There is good natured teasing.

Eskel bolted the heavy door and led the horses to the stable. There were four other horses already stabled there, Geralt’s bay mare Roach, Jaskier's dapple grey Pegasus, Vesemir’s chestnut mare, and Lambert’s stallion were happily munching on oats. Eskel greeted each of the horses with fond familiarity.

He hefted the bags and saddles from Scorpion and Kasztanka before giving them both a thorough brushing down. 

He walked across the familiar courtyard towards the keep, the sounds and smells of his home washing over him. Eskel always liked coming home to Kaer Morhen, but this time he was particularly grateful to have arrived safely. 

Walking through the heavy keep doors, he found Vesemir sitting in his favourite chair by the fire with a book in his hands. 

“I’ve put her in your old room.” he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I assumed that would be alright?”

Eskel nodded. 

“You look worn out Son.”

“Journey was taxing. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“She has the look of someone on the run. Were you followed?”

“Don’t think so. We were careful. Didn’t find any signs of being tracked.”

“You go freshen up. I’ll let you introduce her to the others. Wouldn’t want to inflict them on her before she’s ready.”

Eskel walked up the large stone stairway towards his room. He knocked softly on the door but heard no response. Entering the room quietly he found Magda curled up on his bed fast asleep, still in her travelling clothes. He padded quietly across the room, removed his armour and changed into a fresh shirt. He brushed a light kiss on the top of her head before heading back downstairs to the common room. 

He found Vesemir, Geralt, Lambert, and Jaskier seated around the heavy wooden table laughing raucously at something Jsakier had said.They each held a tankard of ale and the smell of roasted meat filled the hall. 

Geralt was the first to see him. He stood quickly and wrapped Eskel in a bear hug. “Missed you, brother.” Eskel responded in kind. Lambert gave him a pat on the back and Jaskier shook his hand affectionately. 

“Wasn’t sure if you would make it this year.” Lambert said 

“Wasn’t sure I would make it either to be honest.” replied Eskel. 

Jaskier piped up “ Was that a woman I saw you come in with… Eskel Eskel what stories you must have for us this season.”

Geralt handed him a mug of ale and Lambert pulled up a chair for him. Eskel sat and joined his comrades at the table, drinking deeply from his mug.

“She can tell you the details that she wants known. The long and short of it is that she’s in danger. We can’t outrun it forever, but the winter will give up time to prepare a plan.”

“Come on, you can’t leave us like that…. Details man!” badgered Jaskier, banging his hand in the table for emphasis.. 

Eskel thought for a moment, considering how much he should share. “You’ve heard of Gideon Krol? Situation’s complicated, but she ran afoul of him in a big way. Thought we could lay low here for a while while we figure out what to do.”

He told them in broad strokes about meeting Magda, about their time on the road to Oxenfurt. He glossed over the more sordid details, much to Lambert and Jaskier’s chagrin. He explained Krol’s ultimatum, but left out Magda’s personal history. That was her story to tell if she chose to.

“... and then we ran. Been travelling rough for some time now. Don’t think I slept at all the whole time.”

“I can tell.” said Geralt bluntly. “Brother, you look like shit.”

“If I didn’t know better Eskel, I’d say you were in love.” teased Lambert. “Has someone melted your cold heart?”

Eskel growled and took a deep drink of ale.

“If anything, he’s melted mine.” Magda’s voice floated into the hall. Eskel smiled into his tankard. 

“Geralt, Lambert, Jaskier… This is Magda.”

Magda sat down at the table, and Eskel fetched her an ale. She was wearing clean clothes, and her hair was neatly braided in a long rope down the centre of her back.

“Mags, may I introduce you to the pride of the wolf school. Vesemir you’ve already met, the white haired grump is Geralt, the loudmouth is Lambert, and the peacock is…”

“The bard Dandelion.” she finished, smiling. “I’ve read your book.”

“Charmed,” smiled Jaskier smugly “Julien Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove at your service. And what is a woman of class and taste such as yourself doing with a lump like Eskel?” he had reached over and kissed her hand in a courtly manner. “ No offence my friend.” he flashed a cheeky grin at Eskel. 

“Hey now.” replied Eskel. “You can have any woman you want, just let me have this one.”

Jaskier made an offended sound. 

“You’ve nothing to worry about Wolf… although Master Dandelion, I must say your use of iambic pentameter in your poem “To Know a Wolf’s Bane” is entirely unmatched by your contemporaries.” She winked at Eskel and tossed a smile to the bard.

“A fan of poetry… my my, Beautiful AND well read. Eskel, you must have depths I’ve never noticed to keep a lady of her calibre around.”

Eskel shrugged “Laugh it up bard, I heard you were running from some scorned ex-lover? Hardly seems like you should be making commentary on the relationships of others.” Eskel punched Jaskier’s shoulder in a teasing manner. “Still waters run deep.”

Vesemir spoke up next, scrutinizing Magda closely. The younger men fell silent. “All joking aside my dear, Eskel has told us the basics of what brought you here, but his tale lacked...certain details. In particular, how does a young maid bring the wrath of Gideon Krol down on her head?”

Magda’s expression was unreadable.

Eskel flinched. “Mags you don’t have to…” he started. 

“No.” she stared Vesemir in the eyes, her gaze was unwavering “You’ve opened your home to me. Trust deserves trust in kind. I ask that you listen and save questions until I’m done. I’d rather not drag this out.”

She spoke in a measured voice, retelling the tale that Eskel had already heard. She told them of the horrors of her youth, of the pain she had endured, of the bodies she’d left in her wake. When she spoke of meeting Eskel, her gaze grew soft.”

“There I was, covered in blood, in a 5 day old dress with my hair full of twigs and he couldn’t form a sentence to save his life.”

“And you trusted a witcher… just like that?” questioned Lambert, indignantly.

Magda laughed softly. “I’ve seen a lot of evil in the world Lambert. I know when it looks me in the eye. Besides,” She gave Lambert a withering look, “Men aren’t so hard to read when you know what you’re looking for.”

The five men around the table were silent. “Child.” said Vesemir slowly “You are welcome here for as long as you need.” 

Magda nodded. “I thank you. Truly. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a table with friends.”

Geralt had refilled everyone’s mugs and lit the torches in the wall brackets. Lambert pulled a platter of roasted meat to the table and they all ate heartily. Wind whistled outside the keep, but the company was kept warm by the roaring fire in the hearth. 

“Seems like you arrived just in time “ mused Vesemir. “First snow is falling.”

“Now.” said Jaskier seriously. “I’m not sure if Eskel has explained the situation to you, but you are now that the snow is falling, you and I are trapped in this miserable keep with these miscreants for the rest of the season. I warn you, they barely maintain a reasonable standard of hygiene, and have remarkably few personal boundaries.”

“And yet you keep coming back to see us Bard, why is that.” snarked Lambert. “Fodder for your next book?”

“Right.” said Vesemir, standing from the table. “You folk are young, but this old witcher needs to hit the hay. Douse the torches when you’re done, I’ll not have you burning my castle to the ground.” he waved his good nights and wandered out of the hall. “This is as much a castle and I am a duke.” groused Lambert. “Hunk of rubble more like.”

Despite his complaints, Lambert seemed content with the company, and pulled a bottle of vodka from the kitchen to pass around. 

Geralt caught Eskel’s eye. “You have a plan?”

“Right now? Another ale, a round of gwent, and a good night’s sleep. Too many nights on the road. Plans are for tomorrow.” Eskel rubbed his brow. 

Lambert brought a stack of cards to the table and slapped them down in front of Eskel. 

“Alright lover boy, Your coin is mine. Ante up.”

Lambert dealt out the cards. Eskel smiled contentedly. Magda sat close to his side. 

The wind howled and the snows fell, but inside the Keep they felt safe, removed from the world.


	13. Amongst Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays in posting... life has been chaos...
> 
> Here's a short but sweet chapter to tide you over... more coming soon i promise

Eskel woke long after dawn had broken. The snow which had been falling lightly the night before had gathered into a thick blanket, surrounding the fortress. Magda lay in his arms, breathing evenly. He rose quietly and dressed in soft leather trousers and a quilted jerkin, clothing he left at Kaer Morhen for comfort in the winter months. 

He meandered slowly to the keep kitchens, tracing a lifetime of steps along the hallways. Jaskier was seated next to the fire in the kitchen tuning his lute. 

“He lives!” The bard said jovially. “Sleep well?”

Eskel nodded. He reached for a large pot over the fire, which contained the leftovers of a communal breakfast, oatmeal with dried fruit.

“The others are working on that damn hole in the outer wall.”

“The one Lambert claimed he’d fix last year?”

“And the year before...”

“Right. Maybe this year then…”

Eskel sipped a hot mug of tea and stuffed some oatmeal in his mouth as he sauntered out into the grounds. Snow had fallen all night, blanketing the ground softly. 

He spent the morning hauling brick and stone with Geralt and Vesemir while Lambert cemented the material into the gaping hole in the outer wall. The hole had haunted them for years, but with so few witchers remaining, the task of repairing and re-fortifying was one that had eluded them for some time. Eskel wondered silently if it was really worth all the trouble. Kaer Morhen was a nearly forgotten relic, there wouldn’t be any more attacks like those the Salamandra had waged so long ago. The witcher’s secrets had been lost long ago, and they had no riches to speak of. 

Lambert talked near constantly throughout the construction process, regaling his brothers with the events of the year. He’d spent time on Skellige this year, which he evidently regretted. 

“Fucking Islanders...too proud for their own good. You try to help and they spit in your eye.”

Geralt let out a rumbling laugh “Dunno Lambert, maybe they just don’t take well to loudmouth continental assholes. I’ve never had any more issue in Skellige than anywhere else.” 

“You always get off easy, pretty boy.” Lambert shot back, lobbing a pebble at geralt. “Maybe I should get a bard as well, seems like you have a much easier time getting paid since he latched onto you.”

Geralt shrugged and gave Lambert a feral grin “Or maybe I’m just more likeable than you.”

“Are you boys going to yap all day? I thought we had a wall to fix.” Vesemir exclaimed, hefting a load of bricks up towards to hole in the wall. “Can’t leave the old man to do all the labour on his own.”

The four men worked through the morning. The sun travelled lazily across the sky, softening the snow fall from the previous night. Eskel worked in comfort, surrounded by the familiar sounds of his brother's banter. Kaer Morhen had a complicated past, but the four of them had weathered it together, and despite the time spent apart throughout the summer months, they fell into old routines easily every winter. 

Lambert, loud and brash was always the first to tell his tales from the path. Geralt, more subdued, favoured training over maintenance tasks. Vesemir did his best to maintain order to the keep, though his efforts waned with each passing year as the keep crumbled around him. Eskel, even keeled and relaxed, enjoyed the time spent with his brothers, but often retreated to the fire with a book, his boots kicked off.

After a morning’s labour at the outer wall, the men returned to the keep to warm up by the fire and have a bite to eat. Eskel found Magda curled up by the fire with a blanket wrapped around her. She and Jaskier were laughing together. The easy light had returned to her eyes, and she smiled broadly. Eskel paused across the room, just to look at her, so relaxed in his home. 

She spotted him as he unlaced his quilted jerkin, and rose to meet him. 

“Have a pleasant morning?” she asked

“Good to be back amongst family.” he replied. 

She wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled him into a tight embrace, resting her head on his broad chest. He kissed the top of her head.  
“Jaskier has been telling me the most incredible story.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

She smiled wickedly “Never knew you had such a thing for women with horns.”

Eskel glared at Jaskier, whose eyes went wide with fear “Now Eskel my friend, you cannot really expect me to keep that juicy nugget to myself.”

“When will you lot let it go…. It was ONE time.” Eskel grumbled.


	14. Hot Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathing Occurs. Smut Happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this fic I promise. :|

The afternoon passed lazily. Magda learned her way around the keep, Eskel sorted their gear and packed it away for winter storage. 

Geralt had managed to find some clothing left behind by Triss Merigold during one of her visits, which he handed to Magda. 

“I get the sense it’s not your style, but at least you’ll have something to change into.” He mumbled as he handed her the silky garments. 

Magda thanked him warmly for his thoughtfulness. She wore the green and gold silk gown to dinner that evening and Eskel nearly choked on his ale when she entered the room. The gossamer fabric clung to her body in a way her leather and linen never could. He felt a sudden rush of warmth to his loins and remained seated for some time after dinner. 

The others chattered and joked, but Eskel remained largely silent, enjoying the ambiance of the hall.

His reverie was interrupted by a soft hand on his shoulder. Magda leaned over him and spoke quietly in his ear. 

“I don’t suppose there are any bathing facilities in the wolf’s den?”

Eskel grinned “Oh I think you’ll be quite pleased with the bathing facilities here My Lady. Let me escort you.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow as Eskel and Magda left the dining hall. 

Eskel led Magda down a narrow set of stairs, travelling down into the bowels of the keep. 

“Perhaps you misheard me Wolf, I asked about a bath, not a dungeon.”

“Just wait Fox.”

Several flights of stairs down into the belly of the mountain, the air began to warm, contrary to expectation. Eskel stopped by a heavy wooden door. “Wait here a moment.” He lit a torch and walked through the door. The hallway opened into a large cavern, with torch brackets hanging on the walls. Eskel lit a torch with a shot of igni, and the flickering light basked the cave in a warm golden glow.

Magda hummed in approval as she took in the scene in front of her. The room was thick with steam, and the sound of running water filled the chamber. Eskel never tired of the natural hot springs hidden deep beneath the keep. Nothing helped revive him in winter quite like a languorous soak. 

“Well, I didn’t expect this, I’ll be honest.” Magda said brightly. “ I thought you might just douse yourselves down with cold water and call it a day.

“Nice to know I can still surprise you.” he teased back.

She turned to face him, and slid a hand up to caress his cheek. 

“How can I possibly repay you for all of this?”

Eskel chuckled darkly. “Oh I’m sure you’ll think of something…” He drew her in for a deep kiss. 

Their time on the run had been exhausting, and had not had the time or energy for anything beyond simple survival. A good night’s sleep in his own bed had revived him and the warmth and privacy of the hot spring had created a reaction in his loins that he could no longer contain. 

Magda hummed as he gently pressed the bulge of his erection against her. He ran his fingers over the soft silk material of her dress and spread his fingers wide over the curves of her ass. She ghosted her hand down his chest and pulled at his belt. He suppressed a needy sound as the tips of her fingers reached the head of his cock. He growled low and nearly tore her dress as she wrapped her whole hand around his shaft, licking a hot stripe up the side of his face before pulling on the shell of his ear with her teeth. 

“Careful now, I’ve never had a dress this fine in my life…”

“We can get you another. As many as you want.”

He fumbled with the ties on the bodice, his large fingers struggling with the fine ribbons. 

He was nearly in agony by the time he managed to loosen the last string, and free her from the garment. The dress slipped to the floor leaving her bare in front of him. She ran her finger up his chest as he shucked his own shirt off, breaking their kiss momentarily to push his trousers to the ground. She ran a teasing finger over the head of his cock before smirking and stepping back. She stepped into the nearest pool and sighed as she sank into the water. He let out a shuddering breath and followed suit, pressing himself against her beneath the water. He ran light fingers over her, tracing the now familiar scars as he kissed hungrily at her neck. Her slim fingers wrapped themselves around his hardened shaft and worked up and down his length. 

He pulled them back towards the edge of the pool, and settled on a rough hewn bench under the water, pulling her astride his lap. She tangled a hand in his hair and began to slowly gyrate her hips against one of his strong thighs, her hand still stroking up and down his cock. 

Magda’s breathing picked up pace as she worked herself against his thigh. She let out small gasps of pleasure as she nipped at the shell of his ear. 

With a growl he lifted her bodily and lined himself up with her entrance, pushing in deep while he buried his face in her hair. Breathing in deeply, steeping himself on the scent of her. 

It didn’t take her long until her breathing grew ragged and she came, the sounds of her pleasure reverberating off the cavern walls. He wasn’t far behind her, coming deep inside her with a shudder. He held her still, breathing in the herbal smell of her hair and she caressed his head and neck. 

They remained in the hot springs for some time. Eskel savoured the quiet comfort in this private moment. He washed her hair, running his calloused fingers through her wild curls. When he finished she shifted to sit on his lap and traced circles on his chest, teasing through his chest hair. Neither spoke, enjoying the intimacy of their silence. 

It felt like an age, removed from the world in the warmth and safety of the spring. Eventually, their reverie was interrupted by voices on the stairway. Eskel sighed and rubbed his temples. 

“Remember how Jaskier mentioned a lack of personal boundaries.” Eskel murmered.

Magda nodded and looked at him questioningly. 

“I apologize for them in advance.”

The room was suddenly full of noise as Lambert barrelled into the cave, followed by Geralt and Jaskier. Magda made a small movement like she meant to leave Eskel’s lap, but his large hands held her in place, seemingly unbothered by the intrusion. She settled back onto him, leaning into his chest.

“So sorry for the interruption my lady.” Jaskier swept into a courtly bow when he spotted Magda and Eskel. 

Lambert let out a bark of laughter “No you aren’t… it was your idea to come down here.” he nearly tripped while pulling his trousers to the ground in a swift motion. He adopted a faux courtly accent “ ‘They’ve had privacy enough, I want a bath.’ … I believe those were your words Bard.” 

“Well who am I to deny you a bath in your own home.” Magda laughed. She sat unabashedly on Eskel’s lap, her legs crossed, one arm looped over Eskel’s broad shoulder. The three newcoweres shed their clothes and quickly entered the large pool. The cave rang with boisterous energy

Geralt sank under the water, resurfacing with his silver hair flowing behind him like an oil slick. He let out a contented sound and found a seat along the rough hewn bench a few feet from Magda and Eskel “This pool’s the best thing about this damn keep.” Lambert mumbled as he sank further into the water. Geralt rumbled in agreement and shook out his mane of hair, spraying the others with droplets “I’d live down here all winter if Vesemir would let me”

“Really it’s the only reason I keep coming back.” stated Jaskier. “The company is fine, but the baths are divine.”

“I seem to remember a story about a scorned ex lover?” teased Magda “ Here I thought you were on the run, but really you just wanted Spa retreat.”

“Well… yes… there was a teeny tiny little disagreement with a certain someone and a certain someone's betrothed that MAY have necessitated a hasty retreat from town…”

Geralt barked a laugh “ I seem to recall more than one someone and more than one betrothed.”

“Oh come on Bard, tell us the story already.” Lambert chided. 

“Fine. If you’re in such a hurry to tell tales this winter, I shall. But only because you insist… I’m not one to kiss and tell.

Eskel snorted .”A bold faced lie and you know it. You love nothing more than to tell tales.” his fingers traced small circles on Magda’s thigh.


	15. Jaskier's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short but saucy chapter in which Jaskier tells his story. Jaskier is a disaster Bi.

“Alright I’ll tell you the tale.” Jaskier floated lazily in the water, his keen eyes flashing with mischief. 

The others circled around, the cavern silent but for the gentle sounds of running water trickling into the spring. 

“Now, I trust you are all familiar with the court at Vizima”

Lambert scoffed “How the fuck would any of us be familiar with the fucking Viziman court? They wouldn’t let us through the fucking door.” Geralt silenced him with a scowl.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “AS I was saying… The court at Vizima is truly a wonder. Some of the most beautiful lords and ladies on the whole of the continent. I’ve had the great honor to grace the court with my lute for several summer seasons, and have developed a reputation as a poetaster of some quality amongst the gentle folk.”

Geralt huffed a laugh “Your reputation at court has always had as much to do with your cock ending up in the wrong place as it does your poetry.”

Jaskier glared at the white haired witcher. “Do you wish to hear my tale, or do you plan on interrupting me every 2 seconds?.”

Gerlat leaned back against the stone wall of the pool with a sardonic smile. “My apologies, noble lord, please continue.” Lambert slipped from the pool and returned with a cask of ale to share. Mugs of cellar cooled ale were passed around. 

“I had spent time at the Viziman court during seasons prior. Many of the lords and ladies there were known to me and I never wanted for dinner invitations. There was however, one or two new developments at court this year. A pair of young flowers so exquisite in their beauty that it nearly left me breathless.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Magda smirked at his reaction

“I tried, I admit, to keep my affections to myself, to pursue safe paths, but so ardent was their beauty that I found myself drawn first to one’s chamber, and then to the other’s. The nectar of each was sweeter than the last. The poems, the ballads I could write about them. So full of promise, so ripe in their desire… it was so much more than my pleasure… it was my duty to share in them. We swore oaths to each other bodies, we granted each other pleasures mere mortals can only dream of. Alas our time was short lived… for destiny had other designs..”

Geralt interrupted again. “Destiny…" he snorted"…. Melitele’s tits...What he means is that he fucked them. Loudly. With no discretion whatsoever. First one, then the other. What’s more, they were a Brother and Sister. We’d been in court about five minutes before he disappears into a rose bush with the sister. Next night he sweet talks the brother over dessert and they aren’t seen for the rest of the night. Whole fucking castle heard them going at it though.” He looks at Jaskier emotionlessly. “I would have had quite a relaxing season at court if you’d been able to keep your cock to yourself for once. The sister was to be married to the nephew of the king of Kovir. Very valuable match for her father. Brother was betrothed to the Princess of Ofier. Ofieri King was … displeased.” He took a deep drink from his mug. 

Jaskier made a sound as if to dispute the severity of Geralt’s claims, 

“ ‘Course both the Ofieri Royal guard and the Koviri Dragoons break down our door in the night. Claimed Jaskier was some sort of ‘dangerous sorcerer’ who ‘seduced men and women to cannibalize their hearts’ or some nonsense. ” Geralt grumbled. “Last time I share a room with you at court. Never Again.”

Lambert snorted into his beer. Jaskier opened and closed his mouth like a fish. 

“The great poet, struck silent by a Witcher.” Eskel’s laugh boomed through the cave. 

“So who was the better lay?” Magda asked. Eskel raises an eyebrow in surprise at her reaction. 

“Oh my sweet lady, one cannot compare two lovers. One would be better off comparing sunsets, or shooting stars… each beautiful in their…” 

Geralt cut him off “Based on the noises… the Brother. By a fair margin.” He drained his mug and refilled it. 

Magda hummed in approval. “I’ve been told there’s no greater pleasure to a man than the depths reached by another man.”

Eskel nearly choked on his ale. Geralt and Lambert exchanged looks of incredulous confusion. 

“Oh please, you roam the earth as near immortals and you’ve never tried it for yourselves?” Magda sipped daintily at her ale. 

“As I said earlier” nodded Jaskier “ A woman of class and taste. Ofieri Royal guard had clearly never plumbed their own depths or they would have better understood the situation.” 

The chamber was alight with laughter once more and Lambert refilled mugs with another round of ale for each of them. 

“Anyway, the long and short of it is that I now have a death sentence on my head in both Kovir and Ofier, so I can strike both off my future travel plans.” Jaskier said with a sigh. 

“Didn’t you already have a death sentence in Toussaint?” asked Eskel “You seem to be collecting them at an alarming rate.”

“Yes, well that was a perfectly innocent misunderstanding. One of these days my little weasel Annarietta will forgive me and I’ll be living in luxury once again. Until then, I wander the world with only you wolves for company.” he made a dramatic hand motion. 

"At least you got some good material for the next book." supplied Lambert.


	16. Can't outrun destiny

The winter season passed peacefully. Eskel spent his mornings helping Vesemir with repairs, and afternoons were split between training, and time with Magda. They grew into one another comfortably. 

Jaskier had been teaching Magda to play the lute in the evenings. She picked it up quickly, learning to play most of his repertoire within the first month of winter. Eskel, Lambert, Geralt and Vesemir worked on patching the hole in the wall, but as the days grew shorter and colder, they spent more time indoors drinking ale around the fire, and less time toiling in the snow. 

Eskel and Magda spent nights curled up together beneath a pile of furs and blankets in Eskel’s room. She seemed to enjoy quiet time spent running her fingers through his hair, and scratching at his winter beard. He would curl around her protectively at night, his arms covering her and holding her close, the soft puffs of her breath warming his chest, in sync with his slow steady heart beat.

They made love frequently. Sometimes in the privacy of Eskel’s room. He would take his time, tasting her, unraveling her one thread at a time until she was laid out for him, desperate and wanting. Other times she would pull him into the nearest hall closet and hitch up her skirts, Eskel railing into her fast and desperate. They fucked on nearly every surface of the keep. Lambert caught them in the act a few times, raising his eyebrows and making lewd comments, before sidling off unhurriedly to another part of the castle. 

At Midinvaerne, Jaskier performed a new ballad for them. “The Fox of the High Hill”. It was a stirring tale of a young maiden's trials against the evils of man. It ended with the maiden triumphing over her demons, held in the embrace of her lover forever more. 

Magda had smiled warmly at Jaskier and toasted him graciously, but she was quiet for the remainder of the evening. Eskel stayed close to her side, his large hand gently caressing her back. She leaned into his touch but said nothing. That night she had held him close, her hands clutching at him desperately in her sleep. Twice she awoke from nightmares. He didn’t sleep. 

The next morning over a breakfast of dried fruit and porridge she had looked at him seriously. 

“We need a plan.” She said quietly. 

He nodded in agreement. “Let’s talk with the others”

“I’ll not risk anyone’s life.” she started. He raised his hand to cut her off.

“No one is forcing them to do anything, but we’re a family. We support each other in these sorts of things. We supported Geralt with his Child Surprise, we supported Vesemir in rebuilding the fortress, we helped Lambert when Aiden was killed. They were there for me when…” he trailed off and motioned at his scared face.

“I’ve still not heard that tale.” she said quietly. “I’ll not force it from you. You gave me the choice to tell my story and I’ll give you the same. If you want to tell it, I want to listen.”

He paused, moving his spoon around in his porridge aimlessly. 

“I was young.” He started slowly. “Young and foolish. Made an error in judgement. Claimed the Law of Surprise without fully realizing the consequences. Young, brash witchers have often claimed the Law. It’s like a gamble. Lambert got the profits from an exceptionally good harvest one year, Vesemir claimed a freshly hunted 20 point stag once… the head still hangs above our mantel... I got Scorpion.”

He paused, considering how to continue. “Sometimes though, there’s a child. In days gone past, witcher recruits were gained from calling the Law. It’s how all of us ended up here at Kaer Morhen. Those days are long gone, but the Law still remains. Once the Law is called, there’s no backing out. Destiny binds you to your claim… binds two people together and no matter what you try to do, your fates are entwined from then on. I thought I could fight it. I was naive, foolish, to think I could outrun destiny. I didn’t want to sentence a child to this life. She was highborn, wouldn’t have belonged in this life.”

He stared at the table, hands knotted together. “She found me anyway, years later, when she was in trouble. Her family claimed she was cursed. Born under the black sun. A monster. In my ignorance I turned her away, thought destiny was a superstition. In the end I was injured, and she was killed. I keep thinking that if only I had gone back and claimed her properly, maybe raised her here instead…” His voice faltered. Magda brought a hand up to his face, caressing his cheek and looking into his eyes. “Maybe she’d have lived.” he finished.

“What’s done cannot be undone.” she said quietly. “All we can do is carry our memories forward.” She leaned in and kissed him softly, tenderly. He held her tight to his chest. Talking of Deidre hurt, even all these years later. As though his lost child surprise was seared into his bones. 

“We can’t run from our destiny “ he murmured “I couldn’t run from mine, you can’t from yours. But we can prepare, we can decide the end result.”

She brushed away a tear. “We’d best come up with a plan then.”

That night after their evening meal, Eskel cleared his throat to gather the attention of his brothers. 

“Right.” he said “Magda and I have been discussing options for what we do in the spring. We cant hide here forever, but at least we have until spring thaw to come up with a plan.”

He looked around the room at his family, lit warmly by the firelight. “I won’t ask you to fight our battles... “ Vesemir stood suddenly and raised his hand to cut Eskel off. 

“Son, I’m going to stop you there. We are a family. We help our own.” 

“Brother.” Geralt said in a low voice “ Your battles are our battles. We’re in this together. Always have been, always will be.”

Lambert reached over and clasped Eskel by the shoulder. “You think we’d leave you to have all the fun without us?” he smiled wolfishly. “If someone is going to take down a motherfucker like Gideon Kroll, I want to be there to witness it.” 

Eskel’s heart swelled “Right then.” he looked around the room at his family. “Let's figure this out.”


End file.
